NORMAN LEAR

Fellow age-adjacent boomer Jimmy Kimmel did our nation a great service by paying tribute to Norman Lear. Fortunately, Mr. Lear lived to 101 years of age allowing him to participate in re-stagings of some of his best sitcom episodes. It was strange to witness the resurgence of interest in this as it made clear how his works had been sort of lost in the downtime of changing cultural tastes and priorities. That aside, Norman Lear made me a better person. 

Lear, like my older parents, was part of the greatest generation. However, he differed from so many of his veteran peers in San Antonio (Military City USA) based on his uber-liberal stances. As a result, this only child barricaded himself in his bedroom awash in a world brought to me with a live audience from CBS Studio City. (Carol Burnett was always available however in the main living room TV.) I was able to express to Mr. Lear—when I met him ten years ago in Austin—how the Archie Bunker/Meathead mirrored my relationship with my father. In a more south Texas upper middle-class waspish way. Of course, it was inspired by Lear and his father, in a New York, lower middle-class Jewish household. As I aged, the shock and awe of the televised fireworks of liberal Mike and conservative Archie—decades from the initial jolt, bad language, and all—mellowed into an understanding of the true themes borne of the dynamics of the father and son. This was never so apparent as in the episode where Archie and Mike get drunk together in a locked storeroom. My emotional reactions were verified when Lear himself proclaimed this his favorite episode as he teared up rewatching it in a documentary of his life. 

There is no doubt of the historical significance of Lear’s revolution in content and style of television sitcoms. And there is no doubt that his intentions were pure and noble. I recently read a book called The Rube Tube (regarding the trees being cut town in CBS sitcoms) which reiterated the complicated fact that “All in the Family” was the number one rated program for five years because half the audience related to Bunker’s racist malapropisms. They thought he spoke their language and didn’t get the satire. That makes sense. The book went scarily farther in positing that higher ups at the networks anticipated this and therefore welcomed the idea of a bigot who was cuddly and had moments of humanity. So, in some ways the strategy mirrored our current times when far-right zealots can be coddled as a, well, demographic. Another complication with Lear’s programs revolves around stereotypes. Once again, the producer’s intentions are laudable for giving voice and character to marginalized communities. However, the buffoonery exhibited by JJ Evans or Grady Wilson or Aunt Esther seems rather a throwback to Amos n Andy days. The gay characters were often overly foppish. (Ironically, a cartoon version of All in the Family created by Hanna-Barbera, “Wait Til Your Father Gets Home, ”frighteningly follows this to an animated extreme.) Regardless of Lear’s newfound revival, it is rather odd to witness the un-pc element of his work.

 One thing Lear did that got lost in our social evolution is the ability to satirize in an equal manner though. Not by degrading characterizations but by human frailty common to all. Fred Sanford and George Jefferson were as homophobic and xenophobic as Bunker was. And this is what sets the 70’s work apart from sterile complication-free attempts at racial conciliation that have resulted from a backlash against nuance. 

There were three styles in sitcoms in the 70s. three-camera setups in front of a studio audience were the new norm. Norman Lear was the first to use videotape, promoting more artificial lighting and set design. This left the viewer feeling as if at a stage play. The acting could tend to be broader, the dramatic interludes more melodramatic. And when Lear’s partner Bud Yorkin show-ran NBC’s “Sanford and Son,” the audience applause at each actor’s entrance added to the artificiality. The flip side were the Mary Tyler Moore/Grant Tinker series. Shot on film, the studio audience rarely gasped at shocks or shrieked at catchphrases. The acting was way more subtle and subdued. And Garry Marshall’s output—despite the quality format, also film with musical intertitles and transitions (like MTM)—catered to a younger audience and took studio audience interactions to almost grotesque levels from Fonzie to Mork. All three of these were part of the fabric of my life. The sounds, music, “feel” of these are as comforting as a quilt blanket on a cold morning.

 The “live” feeling of Lear’s shows gave it an immediacy which I appreciated so much as a media-hungry kid. Especially pre-1975 when CBS Studio City was home to most of the TAT shows. When Mr. Lear moved all to the Metromedia Square-for no reason I can imagine-the feel was different. Of course, “Sanford and Son” was taped at NBC studios giving it as much of that essence—right next door to Johnny Carson. Norman Lear dealt with serious topics unlike any other sitcom (even to this day.) When an MTM show had a serious moment there was always a beat of comedy to bring the audience back. Most times, Lear’s comedies would linger on those moments without any levity and the shows rarely age well, coming across as a Sunday morning episode of “Insight” (probably the most obscure reference I could throw out). One of my favorite episodes of AITF depicts the Bunkers having a draft dodger at Christmas dinner. That episode was near perfect in the mixture of human drama and human comedy. That was sadly rare. “Sanford and Son” had very little input from Lear and was pretty much a vaudeville show with all serious issues thrown out for a laugh. 

 Lear was also involved in motion pictures and directed “Cold Turkey” with Dick Van Dyke and Bob Newhart (both still with us) is an almost cruel but effective satire a bit ahead of its time but still at the right time. He also hosted an episode of SNL during its premiere season. Allow me to touch a bit on Lear’s shows individually and their personal impact.

 “All in the Family” is a masterpiece for the reasons cited above and a huge influence of my life. My father was savvy enough to avoid the show for its bitter ironies hitting too close to home. Thank God I had a TV set in my room. When the “kids” moved next door and baby Joey was born, the show took a hit in audience and direction (John Rich left by then to launch "Barney Miller.) By the final season-- Fonzie and Vinnie Barbarino were taking the oxygen out of the sitcom room, MTM was history—the Bunkers and Stivics flew out with an Emmy winning season of quality stories and acting. Then star Carroll O’Connor took over, making archie an even more loveable bigot. They adopt a niece then Archie buys the bar then Edith passes then Archie has a houseful of young women and becomes a sage for all the disenfranchised and remains the ignorant small-minded oaf with his beer drinking buddies. O’Connor also chose to screen pre-taped shows in front of a studio audience lessening the timing of the, horribly evolved overacting. Four years later, at the end of “Archie Bunker’s Place” Bunker and his minions were simply “urban Mayberry.” And then Gloria is spun off in a show where she works for a vet in the country. Oh, well. 

“Sanford and Son, like AITF is a surefire provider of laughs. Most of the acting provided by star Redd Foxx’s buddies from extra-blue nightclub routines was rough but still hilarious. Foxx himself provided one of the best characters on TV, rivaling O’Connor’s crotchety middle-aged counterpart. Show runner Aaron Ruben ("Gomer Pyle") allowed the show to rely on pratfalls rather than shocks. Daily stripping on NBC’s morning schedule inured me to the show by exposure adding to the Friday night appointment viewing until 1977. Foxx tried to bring back Sanford to no audience in the early 80s. Fred Sanford and Archie Bunker both unfortunately hung around a bit too long. 

“Maude.” My mom told me how everyone at her office talked about it in its first season. Even more controversial that AITF. Bea Arthur’s portrayal of Edith’s cousin in and episode at the Bunker household was so well-received that it led to another Lear hit. Once again nuance was key. Based on Lear’s wife, Maude was a crusading liberal but showed a philosophical hypocrisy when overplaying her hand trying to be the “good one.” The scripts were sharp, but the show was Arthur’s. Her characterization and comic timing were superb. The theatricality was at a high level with many Broadway actors rounding out the cast. The upper middle class white life here (which included a bigoted doctor) was a good representation of the cocktail club swingers—drinks always flowing. Sex was a hot topic along with alcoholism and spousal abuse and the big one, abortion. After the ratings fell, Maude was going to continue in more of a political comedy as she goes to Washington, but she quit, and the format changed many times ending up as a summer show about a college campus. 

“Good Times.” Lear’s first spinoff of a spinoff. Esther Rolle, as Maude’s housekeeper was quickly whisked off to Chicago in her own show. Created by Mike Evans, who played Lionel on AITF, this series was to show life in the ghetto. Much like the Bunkers, how does this family deal with the struggles of modern life—this time as a Black family struggling to get by. Once again, this show was part of my life, but in hindsight the drama and comedy mix uncomfortably. When Fonzie started besting  the Evans in the ratings, the producers—mostly white—decided to elevate son JJ (comic Jimmie Walker) into a catchphrase superstar to rival the ABC icons. Evans and his people left the show, there were cast defections (John Amos’s father was killed off, Esther Rolle left and came back.) and the mostly older, white showrunners completely lost touch with what the show was about. The three kids became the constants, but extraneous situations and characters just hurt the show as it stumbled into its final season with story wrap-ups that were as far from reality as the Garry Marshal oeuvre. 

“The Jeffersons.” Once again, lear was toying with genres. Here, he took the “Beverly Hillbillies” and molded it into a socio-political experiment. As the Bunker’s neighbors “moved on up,” the show started with great biting comedy: George and Louise adapting to the white high-rise snobs; the hilarious alcoholic Mother Jefferson; George’s reactions to their best friends, the mixed-race couple—never acknowledged as one of Lear’s greatest triumphs. And one of the reasons for that is that the show lasted way to long. In the late seventies, the show lost in the ratings. It was saved by being rescheduled in the hit post-60 minutes Sunday night comedy lineup with other past-their-prime Lear shows. The satire was gone and for five years into the eighties, the show continued miraculously to high ratings and renewed fandom. “The Jeffersons” had become “little” George and “fat” Tom Willis doing Laurel and Hardy routines and Louise and Helen Willis performing Lucy and Ethel antics. With a celebrity guest stars and an occasional sobering moment. Nicholl-Ross-West, the show runners who started as writers on the Bunker’s best episodes let this show tank. Their other show was “Three’s Company.” There you go.  The same thing happened on non-Lear "Alice" which by 1985 was unwatchable.

“One Day at a Time.” Being the same age as the Cooper girls made this show very relevant and eye-opening for my sheltered  existence as a kid during the wild 70s. As this show was revived recently to high acclaim, the original rivalled "Good Times" in its didactic dramatic moments. Bonnie Franklin’s divorced mom Ann was often overly theatric and it telegraphed horribly. Pat Harrington’s Schneider seemed unbelievable and out of time. Perhaps the best comedy came from Valerie Bertinelli, who along with Franklin and Harrington stayed through the entire run. Her chops were sadly overlooked. Episodes are enjoyed in a nostalgic way, much like a PG13 rated "Brady Bunch." I often wonder if this show would have made it had it not been slotted after "M*A*S*H" for many years. And then it moves to the super Sunday schedule (see above) and it becomes the “My Three Sons” of the eighties with births, deaths, grandmas, adoptions, more births, weddings, divorces, college comedy, musical shows all with the out of place Schneider always around. This show was never laugh out loud funny to me but became even less so. 

“Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman.” Lear’s lampooning of consumer culture through a spoof soap opera was historic. This daily show has been analyzed ad infinitum. I recently watched the entire year and a half of episodes. It got tiresome. When I first watched episodes in the 70s before the local affiliate cancelled it due to the content, it seemed otherworldly without a studio audience. Are you supposed to laugh here or not? The show was a mindf… to put it lightly. In hindsight, I can see how this show was an early “stoner” classic. Lines were flubbed, timing was off. Of course, the shooting schedule was horrific and star Louise Lasser had substance abuse issues of her own. Mary Kay Place came out as a star even with a singing career as her character Loretta. Dabney Coleman, Doris Roberts, James Cromwell, and Martin Mull all passed through. Some characters stayed on until their usefulness passed and it felt like storylines were forced out of desperation. I would agree with co-creator Ann Marcus in that Dody Goodman’s Martha wore out her welcome by the end of the first season. But like all of Lear’s landmark creations, history was made in the world of television. And that’s what is important. 

As much of a hit maker as lear was, he created a few that didn’t make it:

“Hot l Baltimore”. ABC needed to redeem itself for turning down the Bunkers originally by programming this series based on a racy stage play. Bringing back the opening warnings about content that AITF had, the show delved into pretty much all taboo subjects. ABC wasn’t the one by then though sadly. James Cromwell, Conchata Farrell, Richard Masur, Charlotte Rae and other Lear favorites rounded out the huge cast. 

“The Dumplings” NBC attempted to give Lear a platform to examine overweight people…another marginalized community. And make them lovable, in love, cuddly deli owners on Wall Street. Great theme song, overly stagy series. 

“Nancy Walker Show” After Nancy Walker, doing everything in the seventies, left “Rhoda” ABC signed her up for her own show and got lear behind it. Moving from the east coast landscapes to Hollywood gave him a chance to lampoon another part of the country. Walker played a talent agent. Her assistant was one of the first regular gay characters in a sitcom. The show failed and Garry Marshall picked her up for the abrupt "Happy Days" semi-spin of “Blansky’s Beauties” set in Las Vegas. The next year she was back on MTM’s "Rhoda."

 “All’s Fair” this was one of Lear’s most prophetic series. Paired with "Maude" on Monday nights, this one starred Richard Crenna and Bernadette Peters and two Washington DC players of different ages and political beliefs falling in love. This became common schtick in political wonk porn years later. It did last a full season. 

“Fernwood 2-Night” was the summer replacement for Mary Hartman. It was a talk show spoof with Martin Mull and Fred Willard. Hard to find but some of the most subversive stuff Mr. Lear ever did. 

“A Year At the Top’. This summer series was strange. Paul Schaffer and Greg Evigan played to aspiring musicians who sell their soul to the devil (played comically by Gabe Dell) to make it in the biz. Don Kirschner also was involved. I’m not kidding.

 “All That Glitters.” Here, Lear tried to copy the syndicated serial format of Mary Hartman with the story of a business world run by women. Men were sex objects. Interesting concept that just didn’t work.

“In the Beginning” McLean Stevenson left "MASH", and like Nancy Walker couldn’t find a home. He landed with lear on his second post-Henry Blake journey as a Catholic priest in an inner-city mission with a feisty young liberal nun. Three weeks.

 “Apple Pie” Lear took Rue Mclanahan (from cancelled Maude) and Dabney Coleman (from Mary Hartman) and placed them in the depression years. Somehow ABC thought this concept would blend in with their all-new T and A schedule but, three weeks, was it? 

“Hanging In” This was the fallout from the ever-evolving home for the detritus left from Maude’s political career after Bea Arthur called it quits. Just google it to find the history, it’s quite interesting and once again calls into question the characterization of African Americans in Lear’s sitcom world. 

“The Baxters”. Lear took a local concept and nationalized it. Basically, a sitcom family deals with an issue and a studio audience talks about it. 

“AKA Pablo” Lear’s comeback in 1984. Paul Rodriguez is Latino comic dealing with his traditional family. A little late, as James Komack checked that history making box with "Chico and the Man."

“Sunday Dinner.” Robert Loggia played the widower dad and his daughter (Teri Hatcher) spoke with God. 

“Powers That Be”. The political satire that lear was meant to make in the 70s. a brilliant cast: John Forsythe, Holland Taylor, David Hyde Pierce, Peter McNichol, Joseph Gordon-Leavitt. One of Lear’s funniest and the first Lear show my dad watched.  Did I mention it was during the Clinton years?

“704 Hauser Street” John Amos never gave up on Norman Lear after a history of disagreements. Here he is a traditionally liberal blue collar African American man living in the post-Bunker Queens house. In another prescient twist his son is a Rush Limbaugh follower married to a white woman (Maura Tierney). This one had promise but it was the age of Seinfeld and Friends.

 I rarely think of “Diff’rent Strokes” and “Facts of Life” and McLean Stevenson’s third failed attempt at revival “Hello, Larry” as Lear shows. They were produced by his company, but the quality of these shows paled in comparison even to the tired drawn out exits of his past hits. 

 But Norman Lear is a true patriot, a great American, a brilliant satirist and changed my life!! Thanks, and RIP.

Years of Change

1968-1973: This pack of years was a game changer. I was five years old in ’68, just starting school. In fall 68 I started a “preschool,” a precursor to first grade. Lanark daycare in san Antonio. This was the year I slightly remember what I saw on TV. Mostly Saturday morning…banana splits, wacky races, roadrunner—cbs and nbc were my go tos. On prime time my Mom had laugh-in on a lot. I remember Jackie gleason, mayberry rfd, here’s lucy, gunsmoke, mission impossible, hogan’s heroes,Julia, green acres, carol burnett, mannix, family affair, my three sons—reruns of I love lucy, gilligan’s island, the flintstones, bullwinkle, andy Griffith. Eventually ABC would get turned on with bewitched, love American style, mod squad, room 222 and incredible Saturday morning fare. That continued with the krofft trifecta: pufnstuf, bugaloos and lidsville; all the filmation archie shows, rankin bass musical group cartoons, lancelot link, the double-deckers, pink panther, scooby doo, harlem globetrotters etc etc. OK, that being said what was going on? Oh 1968—assassinations, riots, Vietnam, protests and a full-on counterculture movement. With the exception of the smothers brothers—soon to be yanked—tv was pretty sterile. And then 1969—well documented with the manson murders. Stuff of legend. So right after manson that fall we got: scooby doo, sesame street, brady bunch and marcus welby. The next three years brought mary tyler moore, all in the family, Sanford and son, the waltons, flip Wilson, partridge family, odd couple, fat albert, bob newhart, MASH, columbo and the Saturday superstar movie and, uh, watergate. So what’s my point? If you watch the historical upheavals during this time—politically, culturally, psychologically—and see the incredible change in the tenor of TV programming, you can see what is probably the hugest shift in the mores of our nation. What we talke about, what we see, how we talk about it and how we see it. Chuck barris, working for the cia, created newlywed game and dating game….highly suggestive fare for the time (pre match game). Hollywood squares was not necessarily kiddie-fare. Ive just been discussing tv. 69’s watershed moment was midnight cowboy, the first mainstream x rated film. 1967 started it: bonnie and clyde, the graduate, in the heat of the night and the spaghetti westerns. Then we had easy rider, bob & carol & ted & alice, Barbarella, wild bunch, kelly’s heroes, patton, the producers, M*A*S*H, carnal knowledge, five easy pieces, shaft, the candidate, butch Cassidy, medium cool, deliverance, mccabe and mrs. miller, dirty harry, billy jack, little big man, rosemary’s baby, planet of the apes, Love story, clockwork orange, last picture show, French connection, 2001, Poseidon adventure, funny girl, the godfather and all those woody allen classics. And a tv movie called duel. This looks like a list…it is. I’m trying to paint the time. While I was ensconsed in tv…there was a revolution going on in film. But as those five years progressed, tv became quality, daring and a bit dangerous while film was breaking down the walls. And it was in the air. I was a kid, but I felt it. It was very visceral. This is how media is history.

Betty White

If you are reading this, then there is no need to do a bio on Betty White. I am simply going to talk about my history with this incredible individual. All I knew was that my Mom loved her. In the early seventies she would talk about how in love she was with Allen Ludden. And I would see Betty on all of her game show appearances: Password, Tattletales, Match Game. She even hosted one in the late seventies called “The Better Sex.” And Mom also watched her on “The Pet Set.” Betty’s love of animals was encapsulated by this charming syndicated program. But neither Mom nor Dad watched Mary Tyler Moore. It was on Saturday night’s and they went out. Dad would have hated the show anyway. Mary and Grant Tinker were friends with White and Ludden. When they needed to create the character of Sue Ann, they wanted someone like Betty. Sardonic and sweet. Well, they went with the real thing and two Emmys later Betty’s acting career was reborn. After the brilliant finale of MTM, Betty teamed with Georgia Engel in “Betty White Show,” which had her playing an actress starring in a police woman style action show. The director of the series was her ex-husband played by John Hillerman. This led to some acerbic banter that by now was trademarked by White. However, paired with the declining “Maude” it lasted half a season. Years passed and she continued on game shows, variety shows (the Carol Burnett episode with Steve Martin was great) and TV movies. When NBC decided to reboot Mama’s Family, Betty was a regular along with Rue McLanahan. Two years later, Betty and Rue got the parts of Blanche and Rose respectively. Rue was to channel to vacant Vivian from her work with Bea Arthur in “Maude.” Well, the producers got smart and switched the roles leading to two of the most iconic casting decisions in sitcom history. And if things weren’t strange enough….they worked with Maude herself, Bea Arthur. By this time, Mom was watching MTM reruns. She and Dad loved to watched Golden Girls on Saturday Night. That and Murder She Wrote. The night Betty won an Emmy for Best Actress in Comedy…I was enchanted. As I was studying acting at the time I realized that this woman…who I considered a “personality, game show panelist, talk show guest”…was actually one of the finest thespians on the tube. Why? If you watch Rose and watch Sue Ann you completely BELIEVE each character. There is no Betty White “type” anymore. That, my friends, is acting. Think about it. So I shared my Mom’s joy when Betty became a movie star, an icon. I never thought this would happen in the age of youth above all. You see, Betty and my Mom were the same age. And Betty reminded me of Mom…Mom is a cross between Rose and Sue Ann….so as I witnessed Betty’s rise in pop culture, I was also experiencing my Mom’s decline in cognition and health. So in a way, Betty was keeping my Mom alive in spirit. I could still show her a picture of White and Mom would say…”Betty!” When Betty’s one time cameo on “Hot in Cleveland” became a regular role, I was even more excited. Even her character in that series had some of my Mom. Just like my Mom’s sister, Betty passed weeks from turning 100. My Mom is still going strong and I will pull up a Youtube video of Betty and watch my Mom smile. When Betty hosted SNL….which I felt lost golden opportunities for the sake of cheap dirty jokes….she mentioned she was an “LA girl.” That may have been why she feuded with Bea Arthur. Betty didn’t get on well with divas. I wonder if that’s because she was a diva herself. But when one looks at her long history in TV…actually quite historic as a woman…one can wonder why she and Lucille Ball were hardly in the same room. When one looks at her track record Lucy almost seems like an afterthought. Sure, that’s sacriligous to say but Betty’s gumption was pretty damn impressive. She was either extremely humble or just that damn talented. One wonders what would have happened if her acting in the 60’s hadn’t been relegated to a role in Preminger’s “Advise and Consent” and one episode of “Petticoat Junction.” We’ll never know. Betty, thanks for being a friend. From Mom and me both.

ABC in the 1970s

 Just For Fun for Boomers.  I tried to compile a list of every show of note from ABC from the 1970-1980 seasons.  News, game shows, prime time, soaps, variety, Saturday morning, talk etc.  Some of the blips were left out.  Back when there were only three major networks, each channel had a certain style and feel.  ABC started out as number three and then with Fred Silverman at his brief helm, launched a juggernaut in the last half of the decade.  Enjoy the list!

An Asterix represents a series that premiered in the 1979-1980 season.

ABC Afterschool Special

ABC Evening News 

   (Harry Reasoner/Howard K. Smith/Barbara Walters)

ABC Monday Night Football

ABC Movie of the Week

ABC Weekend Special

ABC Wide World of Sports

ABC World News Tonight

Alias Smith and Jones

All My Children

Almost Anything Goes

AM America

American Bandstand

Angie

The Associates*

Baretta

Barbara Walters Specials

Barbary Coast

Barney Miller

Battle of the Network Stars

Battlestar Galactica

Benson*

The Better Sex

Bewitched

Bionic Woman

Brady Bunch

Brady Bunch Hour

Brady Kids (animated)

Bugs Bunny Show

The Bullwinkle Show (reruns)

Captain and Tenille

Carter Country

Challenge of the Superfriends

Courtship of Eddie’s Father

Curiosity Shop

Dan August

Dark Shadows

Dating Game

Delta House

Devlin

Dick Cavett Show

Don Ho Show

Donny and Marie

Eight is Enough

The FBI

Family

Family Feud

Fangface

Fantasy Island

Feather and Father Gang

Funky Phantom

Galactica: 1980*

General Hospital

Get Christie Love

Getting Together (Bobby Sherman)

Goober & Ghost Chasers

Good Morning, America

Happy Days

Hardy Boys Mysteries

Harry O

Hart to Hart*

Here Come the Doubledeckers

Holmes and Yoyo

Hong Kong Phooey

Hot L  Baltimore

How the West Was Won

The Immortal

Jabberjaw

Jackson Five (animated)

Johnny Cash Show

Julie Andrews Hour

Kid Power

Kolchak: Night Stalker

Korg: 70,000 BC

Kung Fu

Lancelot Link Secret Chimp

Laverne and Shirley

Lawrence Welk Show

Let’s Make a Deal

Lidsville

Longstreet

Lost Saucer

Love, American Style

The Love Boat

Marcus Welby, MD

Mod Squad

Monday Night Football

Mork and Mindy

Nancy Drew Mysteries

Nanny and the Professor

New Adventures of Gilligan

New Krofft Supershow

New Pink Panther Show

Newlywed Game

The Odd Couple

The Oddball Couple (animated)

Olympic Games (’72, ’76)

One Life to Live

Operation Petticoat

The Osmonds (animated)

Owen Marshall, Counselor at Law

Partridge Family

Password

Paul Lynde Show

The Persuaders

Plasticman Comedy/Adventure Show*

Reluctant Dragon and Mr. Toad

Rich Man Poor Man

Rhyme and Reason

Roadrunner Show 

The Rookies

Room 222

Roots

The Ropers

Ryan’s Hope

Salvage One

Saturday Superstar Movie’

Schoolhouse Rock

Scooby Doo/Dynomutt Hour

Scooby’s All Star Laff a Lympics

Scooby and Scrappy Doo*

Six Million Dollar Man

The Sixth Sense

The Smith Family

Smokey Bear Show

Soap

Split Second

Streets of San Francisco

Superfriends

SWAT

Swiss Family Robinson

Tabitha

Taxi

Temperature’s Rising

Tenspeed and Brownshoe*

That’s Incredible*

That’s My Mama

These are the Days

This is Tom Jones

Three’s Company

Time for Timer

Tom & Jerry/Grape Ape Show

Tony Randall Show

20/20

$10/20,000 Pyramid

Uncle Croc’s Block

Vegas

Welcome Back, Kotter

What’s Happening

When Things Were Rotten

Wide World of Sports

Yogi’s Gang

You Don’t Say

Review: "Once Upon a Time in Hollywood."

“ONCE UPON A TIME IN HOLLYWOOD”

QT channels his inner Paddy for a giant middle finger to ….?

This beautiful film was made for boomer geeks like me.  Whether you relish the black and white epic TV of the post-Nov 22 years or the golden patina of the raw 1968 era of the mod revisionists, one will be satisfied.  If, like me, you are enamored of the ghosts of go-go booted waifs or are morbidly fascinated by the lurking evil of the encroaching decade of Watergate, your hunger will be sated.  This is a film by a retro geek for retro geeks.  But, unlike Tarantino’s unfocused slice of fandom in “Grindhouse” this epic has a fantastic (if unexpected) narrative arc and two main characters that hit every mark of the McKee ethos.  This film will be rewarded at awards season.   This film will not make a lot of money. 

“Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” is clearly the film Tarantino was born to make.  His bag of tricks (never unwelcome) is present yet restrained.  This is a QT film.  But not the one you’d expect. 

Two things happened to this naïve filmgoer in 1994.  I was permanently scarred by the visceral carnage of Oliver Stone’s “Natural Born Killers.”  While anticipating the penultimate staging of my favorite form of satire, I was engulfed in an acid-trip bloodbath of cruelty and hypocritical mocking.  It didn’t help that two giggling middle school girls that snuck in joined me in the near empty theater.  Our own Quentin wrote the script for that one and it was not the film he intended.  Therefore, I dreaded the over-hyped masterpiece that he would give birth to four months later.  What vile and nauseating experience will this be….I must see it though.  And see it I did.  I saw “Pulp Fiction” a couple of times that year.  I celebrated its mash up of the literal and the absurd.  Nothing like it had I seen before.  (I had not seen “Reservoir Dogs” and loved “True Romance” before I knew the voice screaming behind it was not Tony Scott).  

As the Hollywood trust fund kids love to say, “CUT TO:”  twenty two years later and I meet QT at the Paramount during a near empty screening of “Mad Mad World”  As is the usual case, I didn’t tell him who I was—the mystery that I’m some studio big shot always amuses me—and he was gracious in his praise of this comedy.  His lack of knowledge regarding my low status allowed me to regale him of his talent creating CHARACTERS and VIVIDLY putting them on screen in much the same way, say, Blake Edwards, did.  He loved that and stopped talking.  It’s then that I departed to his quizzical glances.  I have always left Hollywood royalty I happen upon in that way. 

And that, dear friends, is what this film is about.  It’s about dreams and happenstance.  It’s about being at the right place at the wrong time or vice versa.  Literally.  It’s about Sliding Doors and all that mumbo jumbo. 

Tarantino didn’t make a version of Edward’s “S.O.B.” here.  There is not one bitter pill spit out here.  It’s all about love.  More than you think.  Make no mistake, when Brad Pitt’s stuntman ogles the ultimate Manson girl cross his path to the tune of “Mrs. Robinson,” you could end the film there.  And this trick of every musical cue being a fan boy’s wet dream, every driving shot (I kept expecting a process shot gag) being an incredible synthesis of musical bliss and trippy camerawork; of every wall, domestic and otherwise, lined with movie posters rather than pretentious artwork; and of an almost clinical adherence to appropriate background references, the geek is disappointed when “California Dreaming” arrives in a wan transition sequence, a capella and fleeting.  But that’s minor.

Paddy Chayefsky wrote the groundbreaking “Network” as a terrifying satire of media and its resultant zombiedom.  The only thing QT shares with this is a penchant for long studious takes.  Not ten minute monologues, as Paddy was wont to write, but set pieces here and there.  Little nuggets, short films if you will, that Tarantino has gleefully snuck in to all of his ultra-sensationalist fare before this.   No, Quentin mirrors Chayefsky’s lesser-known study in grotesqueness in “The Goddess,” a glorious slander on Marilyn Monroe and Her Tinseltown.  Paddy could not hide his love of movie town in this tragic takedown.  Similarly, whatever disdain QT has for Hollywood is hidden by his exuberance for the process, for the lifestyle, for the history.

Dicaprio and Pitt have never been more human.  It’s been difficult for this reviewer to elevate either of these actors to more than a method pretty boy, always seeming much more youthful looking than the gravitas required of the parts they were gifted with.  Here, however, they do embody their characters:  Leonardo’s has-been western actor from the heartland and Brad’s tainted anti-hero of a stuntman.  Truth be told, as I watched Damian Lewis do a throwaway scene as Steve McQueen, I ventured into wish fulfillment of two actors with a few more miles on them, age-wise.  But it is what it is.

And Tarantino's deification of Sharon Tate did no favors to Margo Robbie as the doomed actress.  It’s as if she is a vessel for the aforementioned hot pant fetish.  That is more than made up for Margaret Qualley’s complete embodiment of the “hippie chick.”  Her “Pussycat” has all the ingredients:  sauciness, boldness, naiveté, and sexiness.  Her crunchy rawness was a clear antidote to the almost sterile version of Tate provided here.

So QT is not providing a “fuck you” to us geeks.  That’s evident in the “Mannix” clips, the “Land of the Giant” references, and the “Candy” billboard.  He’s not shooting the middle finger to Hollywood—if nothing, it’s a love letter.  A gentle one at that.  And that is where the jab may be.  Gentleness. 

The slender escape from moral turpitude and utter revulsion I expected from “Pulp Fiction” in 1994 led to an almost apologist acceptance of ultra-violence in the service of story, character and excellent filmmaking.  Whereas the QT brand has been copied innumerous times, never to the same effect (the love of QT overtakes the love of cinema, get it?), there is only one Quentin.  He will give his fans a taste of what they came from, but only a taste.  And, without giving away any spoilers, he will leave them wanting.  For this geek, it was a thrill ride, a full glass of wine to sip.  I will rewatch it for sure.  The audience that Tarantino created in 1994 will not return.

I walked out of the theater needing to discuss this with someone.  And another aging boomer was discoursing on the history of the Manson murders with his companion.  I felt compelled to join in just to interject my immediate thoughts.  As I was immediately rejecting his statements as coming from a yahoo based on the fact that he didn’t know Pitt from Dicaprio, my whole take on the film changed.  He mentioned one throwaway line at the very end that I missed while I was commiserating with my disappointment.  Yes, a disappointment that was borne of expectations of an audience member and NOT a film lover.  And that throwaway line that I missed, made it a whole different film.  That is filmmaking.

On Dave and Charlie: 1969-1974

I've been wanting to explore these five years for a long time.  I found the impetus with the deaths of Charles Manson and  David Cassidy.  Other than long hair, these two have nothing in common.  However, they both represent a certain part of the cultural zeitgeist after 1969.  I want to examine, from the perspective of a preteen, my naive sense memories from those time.

My folks were older--Greatest Generation.  My peers usually had grandparents their age.  So I sort of self-educated on television and media.  Keep in mind, the Vietnam debacle was in full swing and Nixon came into power.  The culture wars that were going on at the time were as vociferous (and as dangerous) as now...witness the 1968 Chicago Dem Convention.  1968 also saw two devastating assassinations with MLK and RFK.  Of course, I wasn't cognizant of all the politics at the time.  I was watching Hanna Barbera cartoons on Saturday morning and listening to Disney records.  I am fascinated to this day, though, by the history of this period and find books to read on it as if I'm making up for being alive during turbulent times and not having a clue.

That goes for Manson as well.  I had no clue about him or his satanic crimes until I sort of half-watched a miniseries, Helter Skelter, based on Bugliosi's best selling retelling.  It was horrific...as were many of the made-for-television films and recreations at the time.  (They were much more graphic in the seventies than you would think.)  And in no way am I minimizing his reign of terror.  I am simply recollecting how it affected my perception of counterculture at the time.

That "counterculture" was experienced through interaction with relations who were, I would imagine--to simplify--hippies.  Although far removed from the sex and drugs and music, there was a tangential "contact high" if you will.  Many of my peers--slightly younger--had parents that fit this profile.  Many didn't.  They may have had late Greatest Generation parents--possibly Korean War veterans, Eisenhower era Father Knows Best types that were struggling with mod sideburns.  Witness the neocons at the time: Cheney and Bush (google images).  Many of the boomers were restricted from anything reeking of anti-establishment (in sort of post-bloom by now).  I do recall at school and day camps seeing compatriots being picked up by bead-wearing, fully bearded dads.  And, as sheltered as I was, I couldn't avoid the contact with mini-reprobates that would gladly regale with me with words I didn't know and bodily functions I found foreign.  I can't even imagine what they say now and don't want to.

Television, however, shed me of my innocence.  I mean "'being woke."  As I have regaled exponentially in my previous writings, the sitcoms of Norman Lear and the Children's Television Workshop provided an education in diversity and non-inclusiveness.  In retrospect, the political correctness was not quite "correct" but it was nevertheless instructive in the right direction--a sentiment that somehow cannot be approached today amongst certain post-Boomer liberals.  LBJ's Great Society was in full swing and I am so happy to have actually gone to school in a fresh stew of cultures and colors. Even after our first African-American president, that feels in nearly full retreat now thanks to a neoliberalist agenda.

So when I think of the Manson chronicles, it's not a first-hand feeling of disgust and dread.  It's more a patchouli laced haze of psychedelia and brown-hued sixteen millimeter news grit.  Even kids shows--the Krofft menagerie--were borne of acid fever dreams. The Manson girls, in their blond beach babe fresh-faced appearance, inspire the lust I had for my college-age babysitters more than shock and awe nightmares.  I will never forget one of my sitters, in her hippie attire--probably could be my granddaughter nowadays--introducing me to music I had no idea about.  I was frightened by the poster of the Beatles on her wall.

That's where Keith Partridge comes in.  Boomers would agree that the Bradys were just too squeaky clean even in their dealings with scrupulous music agents.  However, their Friday night cohorts, the Partridges, were far more "cool."  David Cassidy's hair is what I wanted...so bad.  His poster was on the wall of all those babysitters.  He was the essence of  the "clean" hippie  persona.  I suppose even in my Pollyanna world, my dark id recognized the potential thrill of being a subversive so well represented by a wholesome traveling family band represented by a bumbling nice guy out of central casting. (He would never lay a hand on Shirley--that we know).

I never saw the cinema at the time.  Most of those early seventies classics were rebroadcast on the networks--edited with commercials.  But that was enough for me.  I still got that sleaziness.  That sort of New York pre-Times Square grime, that representation of urban decay that was now required viewing.  That led to, for me, the highlight of American cinema when directors and not studios were in control.  That was due to everyone watching All in the Family and The Waltons--a strange paradox of the times in and of itself.  When I watch films by Hal Ashby, Robert Altman, early Coppolla and Depalma, Sidney Lumet--I am transported to those times.  I wasn't a spectator or participant.  But I WAS there.

I can't speak to the music at the time.  Which was revolutionary.  I'll leave that to others.  In my cloistered existence anarchic music was represented by The Carpenters or BJ Thomas. Sometimes my dad would go crazy and bring home a 45 of Neil Diamond or Cheech and Chong (I'll never get over that one!)  And nothing will give you a flavor of the times more than Playboy Magazine.  Pubic hair was now shown--and the interviews were the best journalism of the time.  Highly intellectual discourse amongst a new sexual freedom--tinged with key party ethics and polyester.

Even after being educated on the Manson murders, it still somehow feels quaint by today's standards.  Perhaps that's because movies and television, even the most mainstream, is littered with mutilations, beheadings, impalements and disembowelments--graphically depicted--that would make Charlie himself squeamish.  That's not really a joke.  Have you watched FX lately?  And when I see David Cassidy, it reminds me of how a teen idol didn't have to cover themselves with tattoo, brag about 'being bad," experiment with the wildest drugs and express profanity in order to be considered a pop superstar.

Oh, well.   I got a hug from Maureen McCormick once.  That's enough for me.  Peace.

NOTHING IN COMMON: A RETROSPECT

Thirty years old, this is an eighties film that I have written on succinctly many times in the past.  I revisit it yearly as it is extremely reflective of my relationship with my father.  I saw it in theaters during a time when I actually worked in advertising with him, as the characters also both work in sales.  Hotshot Tom Hanks plays the smart ass son taking on giants in the agency world while Jackie Gleason embodies the old-school foot soldier, peddling kid’s clothing with imprinted pens (which was actually my Dad’s business—promotional items).  While the plot of this tale is not my tale, the intricate depiction of the dynamics—father, son and mother (an exquisite Eva Marie Saint)—can be frighteningly spot on.  The director was Garry Marshall. 

That being said, I wish to dissect this film.  Each time I watch it, I look past the “eighties” feel and soundtrack and see—despite the two hour running length—a piece of acting and structural excellence.  Consider this a dissertation on why “Nothing in Common” is arguably one of the finest films of the era. 

THE SCREENPLAY: 
Rick Podell and Michael Preminger worked in advertising.  The crackling dialogue and group antics of Hanks and his creative team accurately depict the intricacies of the corporate ad game.  Much as “Mad Men” bared all to the process in

the sixties, “NIC” does so for the modern yet pre-irony world of advertising.  The screenplay has many moving parts (and characters) and the interplay between the various story lines and characters is flawless in it’s editorial pace.  The balance among Hank’s conquering an airline client’s irascible CEO; bedding the CEO’s daughter and endangering a life long love relationship; and, finally, the main through line regarding his aging  parent’s separation and subsequent illness can seem daunting.  Yet with finely timed scenes and allowing all the characters to sit for awhile then reappear in Hank’s world allows the viewer time patience to take in his plights and triumphs.

Another interesting facet of the screenplay is the fact that no stone is left unturned.  We are never left hanging regarding any action the character’s take.  We are never given an opportunity to mock a character for one-dimensionality.  After Hanks takes off to be with his ailing father, his uptight boss (more about him below) has the decency to ask about the father and make a shift to business without losing the humanity.  Every crazy situation that occurs, no matter how broad the comedy, has it’s consequences.  If not delved into, the consequences are at least dealt with.

THE ACTING: 
It would be debated among many that with was Hank’s launching pad to his Oscar path.  Yet a year before “Big” he performs  a mercurial feat in his shifting from fast-talking smarminess to complete helpless bewilderment (over his parent’s situation). The extreme adjustments in temperament are not inconsistencies in acting but a near-perfect reflection of our bipolar natures. 

The dark demeanor around his parents and the subsequent rapprochement full of tenderness and recaptured love are nothing short of brilliant.   Hank’s quicksilver wisecracking in the opening scene can seem forced at first glance but actually proves his ability to stay in character and in the scene.  This is a gift of his that ushered in his stellar career.  It still shows in his roles when not squelched by over-earnestness. 

Gleason not winning a supporting actor Oscar much less being nominated in his final performance (shortly before he passed) is a crime.  His shifts rival Hank’s in their raw beauty.  The pain he shows as he loses his accounts (and job), loses his life partner, encounters diabetes and the subsequent life-threatening surgery, and fights his own humanity is heartrending considering the physical pain Gleason was going through during the shoot.  Director Garry Marshall allows him to show his legendary humor in moments—not going overboard—and gives us the sight of Gleason breaking down after a confrontation with the estranged Saint.  Speaking of Saint, her combination of naivete and wisdom, her

neglected wife veering into unsightly drunkenness and shrill pain encompass a most brave performance by yet another cinema legend (“On the Waterfront,” “Exodus”) 

 The supporting players provide ample support. Hector Elizondo (a Marshall staple) gives a textured performance in as Hank’s agency boss.  What could have been a quick throwaway role

(also a Marshall touch with this fine actor—see “Pretty Woman”) turns into a tour de force.  Marshall (or rather the screenplay) gives him ample opportunity to balance a comically self-aware egomaniac with a wise and fair-minded human being.  See his couch conversation with Hanks after Hanks nearly sabotages the account, consoling him rather than providing angry bluster…yet keeping sight of the company’s interests.  Sexy Sela Ward’s embodiment of the “ball-busting” client can seem rather trite yet upon closer inspection her struggles in the sexist

industry read through her face.  See her compassion for Hanks immediately after firing him.  Amazing.  Barry Corbin as the sociopathic father, head of the airlines is the most humorously stereotypical of the characters.  It’s a fine performance and the frivolous nature of his stubborn power does actually make the point of what these guys are up against.  And, finally, Bess Armstrong as the true love, “the only girlfriend you’re parents MET” IS the penultimate “girl next door”..”the one who got away” in her frustrating tolerance of David’s whining, her understanding of his travails, and her mutual deep life-long love. 

Witness, the whip smart confrontation in her bedroom and the touching and simple finale by the lake.  The featured extras don’t fare as well.  Gleason’s co-workers and clients are played with uneasiness, delivering bad line readings.  Hanks and his team however, propelled by many Chicago Second City actors, provides an almost improvisational tone—representative of Hank’s sitcom breakthrough in “Bosom Buddies,” another ad agency setting.

THE HONESTY:

Through his seventies sitcom career (Odd Couple, Happy Days etc), Garry Marshall imprinted on me in more sensory level than as a purveyor of quality humor.  His television output was more borscht belt than his counterparts at Lear and MTM.  And, honestly, his films…even the most successful…seemed manipulative and trite to me.  See “Beaches,and “Pretty Woman” He seemed to become a brand for large scale casts in dopey romantic pablum.  However, I have to wonder how much he allowed a seasoned cast of actors and comedians to hold sway with naturalness.  Did this incredible script overcome any directorial blemishes?  His old-school history surely allowed him to communicate with Gleason, but was Jackie the one pulling in the broadness to provide a melancholic swan song?  I have to wonder how much sway Marshall did have in two musical montages which clearly take the film in a horrific direction albeit common for the time.  Watching Hanks and Ward get horny watching two horses stud is painful and embarrassing.  And the lip-reading during an encounter with Hanks, Ward and Armstrong tells the story but is way too long and obvious in it’s motivation. Judge for yourself:

The comedy does work though.  When the drunk actress on the commercial set destroys the shoot, the hilarious reaction by Hanks is not a throwaway gag but a result of sleepless days and frustration.  The scene blends into a thoughtful conversation with the director, a childhood friend.  Quick and easy.  Move on.

It must be a combination of script and acting that allows the aforementioned honesty to come through.  As Hanks nonplussed jokes about  his father’s illness, Saint is allowed to reproach him rather than let it slide by.  Corbin’s maniac knows he’s a maniac when he grins at his prey.  When Saint gets a puppy from Hanks, she exclaims “Someone to love!” leading him to pivot and exit in exasperation.  When he has to listen to his

parent’s deeply personal issues, the look in his eyes is allowed to sit:  bewilderment, shock and impatience.  The aforementioned hospital room scene with Gleason and Saint reeks of authenticity in it’s turn from tenderness to raw anger.  You can see the prick points of ego and

hypocrisy as Hanks and Armstrong battle over their respective career devotions. Even her lover is given a few choice lines so as not to be disavowed as a character: “My life’s work is bullshit?” to which Hanks is able to throw back to her.  That is excellent screenwriting. 

As the pressure mounts on Hanks, who is completely exhausted, Corbin insists he misses his father's surgery to attend a NY presentation.  His ultimatum involves a countdown.

 Watch Hanks as he slow burns to explosive: "Don't you EVER fucking touch me again."  It's completely believable and the audience is with him.  As he recovers, he can continue with the wisecracks with Ward but the fun is gone.  It's all resignation and sincerity. See for yourself:

As for nonrealistic happy endings, the parents don't get back together.  That would have been wrong.  Hanks does learn to appreciate the right woman.  And the account is saved.  It's all plausible and leaves no saccharine aftertaste.

As an ancillary note, this is a CHICAGO film.  The city is represented so well…the lakefronts, the pubs, the tenements.  Add to that, the local players and you  have a true feel for mid-America.  As Hanks pitches his agency: “New York is New York, LA we don’t know what they are…but we are Chicago.”  Never since Bob Newhart walked to work form his riverfront condos to the Medical Arts building have we felt so at home here. 

If you have had the patience to read this whole review, give the movie a shot (or a re-shot).  Not sure if my appreciation lies in repeated viewings and the resultant  familiarity  but I do believe there is some credence to spending two hours in this universe.